Mistaken Identity
by affarie ava mai
Summary: Bella was strange and shy.But the Cullen's never thought anything of it, and to them she was just 'New Girl' but everyone has secrets in their lives and Bella, in particular.Rated M for Laguage, Rape and other things. much better than it sounds guarantee!
1. Chapter 1

**Okay so this is my story and I hope you like it. It isn't exactly inspired by angstgoddess003 but I think she is an amazing writer and her writing is one of the best ever. For example in chapter 31 of her story 'Wide Awake' it says; _for better or for bullshit...for richer or if we both end up poor bastards...i solemnly swear to shove my foot up the ass of anyone who touches you...to love and to cherish you for fucking ever... _I cried right there. Lol. For the link tell me in a review and I'll send it to you. **

* * *

_summary; _

Bella was strange and shy. But the Cullens never thought anything of it, and to them she was just 'new girl' but everyone has secrets in their lives and Bella, in particular. Rated M for language, Rape and other things.

_**Flashback;**_

you grew accustomed to the screaming after time.

It was kinda how I rolled. Because lets face it, I was far from modest. Anything for more publicity and I was willing, anything to inspire more music, I would do it. Anything to make people love me, then I was there in a shot.

I wasn't _exactly _one of those spoiled brat's that you see in those lame TV shows, the ones where they always threw a fit and, after kicking her nanny on the shins, her father would bribe her out of her room with a pony (her 7th one may I add)

I was just, well, _me. Kinda_ spoiled, _kinda _a brat, _kinda _bitchy and well just kinda...me. _That _was exactly how I rolled and then my world was turned upside down.

My mother ran off with one of her co-stars, leaving me with a father, who was constantly at work, and who I'm not sure even noticed that she had left him. And a nanny that I hated with a vengeance. I was fifteen...talented, beautiful and rich. So naturally I went binge drinking.

It wasn't that I liked it, it was just that it took away some of the burdens for a little while at least, until I would rise up in the mornings and continue on with life and ultimately...my fucking messed up career.

And when that changed and the ratings went down, the quantities and frequencies of my medicinal tonics went up and just like that I was gone.

So what do you expect when you keep getting a fucking rip-off of cheap beer and booze and then end up attacking the nearest fucking bartender in the run-down booze hovel in an alleyway? Obviously a pissed off father and an even worse off reputation.

And from then on I went to courses and it all seemed to get better; better grades, a healthier lifestyle, less booze and more publicity for my father and I. I even got a new boyfriend.

And everything was perfect... until I ended up with a broken heart and a secret hanging over my head that grew bigger until eventually, I ended up with a dead nanny and covered in blood.

***_*_*_*_*_***

**oh the drama begins already. Lol. What did you think, any thoughts on Bella's character and before you ask; no,i am not telling you what she works as. Lol. Sorry but that is the big secret (and not the only one at that) review for a cyber cookie!!! luv you guys, dedicated to angstgodess003 for her inspiring writing and Edwardaddict17 (long live the cyber sisters!) and my own sis BlackRosesOnMyGrave (or Paula Rose) **

**Sayonara**

**Ella-Ava Rose formally known as Affarie Ava Mai. xoxo**


	2. Chapter 2

Okay, so maybe I was a bit hazy before, but not everyone can make the best fucking first impression every fucking time, can they?

My name was Isabella Marie Swan. I was fifteen and had everything a girl could dream of; the money, the fabulous mansion in Florida, a level of the house dedicated all to herself, beauty, gorgeous guys, and a father that was rarely home.

I didn't get pissed often enough for him to notice my blood shot eyes and the way I groaned at the sound of the slightest noise, but my nanny did.

Pamela was what you would call a bitch. If you opened a dictionary and looked up the word, I wouldn't be surprised if it showed up with her face painted right next to it. Not that I ever did open a dictionary in my life or anything. She was thirty-three, had short black hair that was cut in a short bob style, and always dressed in the same fucking outfit, a green sweater and a short denim skirt.

After all, how else was she supposed to hit on all of the guys that I brought with me to parties? And yes, she knew; she was the one encouraging the wild and raging parties. It was as if she wanted to see my downfall, but that didn't matter because to me she was dirt and I was better than she ever could be.

My father told me it constantly after all, and daddy was right almost all of the time; aside from him being all hypocritical and all that shit about not drinking and smoking and how 'it will damage my lungs'. Hypocritical shit face, like he would know; with him holding out a fucking glass of five hundred dollar booze that I had once sampled only to find that it tasted like shit, bitter and all that jazz.

So I pretended to nod my head and listen while in my head I was really planning out whom in amongst my group were loyal bitches and who were just the bitches.

There was Paula, who was my fucking best friend for life and beyond. She had this fucking gorgeous black hair with mahogany streaks through it. She constantly dyed it and I was so used to seeing all the different colors that if she walked over with green shit plastered on it then I wouldn't notice.

Then there was Rachel, who was like the fucking sister I never had. I mean I wasn't one hundred per cent _sure _she was loyal to me and not to any of the bitches hanging around my little group, but at the same time she seemed loyal enough to keep around a bit longer. So basically, she had bleached blonde hair that really needed to be fucking dyed again because the little dark brown streaks that were growing back from the roots and was obsessed with wearing mini skirts every where she went, even in winter.

I mean has she ever heard of a pair of fucking skinny jeans?

And that was basically the only two people I trusted. I had more friends of course; I had to, being the popular queen-bee of the school and keeping everything in line in case someone tried to oppose me and with my loyal bitches by my side I could gather all kind of dirt on them and ruin there fucking perfect lives forever. That was what they were around for.

Keeping my ass covered from exposure and being the decoys of my group, allowing me time to escape if some shit got out of hand.

And that was basically my fucked up little life. Wake up at ten, go into school late. Meet up with my bitches, _be_ a bitch -because you didn't get any fucking respect otherwise and I was not letting people walk the fuck over me this year, not again. Get a salad for lunch. Annoy the teachers. Pay them to say I was improving in my work to keep father off my case, and then party by night with my bitches for cover in case the cops would arrive.

As for describing myself, I had blonde hair and chocolate brown eyes; I had full lips and a curvy figure that I made sure to flaunt the hell out of. Like mom had always said, 'If you got it, flaunt it!' I was very talented and had everything; whether my father liked it or not and he didn't, I can tell you that.

*_*_*_*_*_*

I started dating James sometime before my seventeenth birthday. A year and a half had passed and I had been steadily recovering. I had turned back to the booze when my father had decided it was time for a 'break' from the movie business (a summary for him getting fired for being caught with the secretary after office hours) and then my life just went fucking down hill from there.

Am I the only one noticing the pattern here?

The months had passed leading up to my seventeenth and my father had thankfully been able to beg, plead and crawl his fucking hideous ass back into the major picture business. In the process firing the secretary who had supposedly seduced _him_,while in my opinion she was a prostitute (not that I hadn't tried that once) and he was no better.

James was...interesting and I would have to say worth keeping around for a while longer. He scared the hell out of me with his driving, but hell if I was going to be one of those girls that curled up on a sofa with a book in hand and moped because there favorite character died or some shit like that, that just wasn't my style.

So instead we went to wild and raging parties that stayed on until all hours of the morning. Then we would crawl our sorry asses home, have the hang-over next morning, ditch school, and make out in the back of his car. Now _that _was my style.

It was through James that I met Laurent who was _very _interesting. Not in the whole attraction area, although he wasn't lacking in that department either, but because of his ability to get all the background information on the bitches that were against me at school.

I'd say somewhere along the way James suspected that I was cheating on him with Laurent. Hell, if I wasn't going to notice what he was doing that girl Victoria and I chose to ignore that shit, then who is he to talk.

Using people – true; but if making out with Laurent got me the information that I needed to make Connie (the girl with the IQ the size of a pea) go "poof" and take her sorry fucking plastic ass over to Colorado, while screaming that she hates me, then is was well worth it.

But that was all I ever did, making out was as far as I went.

Not that I was one of those girls that were choosing the right guy to loose their precious virginity to, it was just that they weren't worth it. You get knocked up and end up with some little alien in your stomach for nine months making you look like a balloon. And after it breaks your fucking heart trying to get it out, all it does is eat, shit, sleep, and drool. At least a dog runs around a bit.

So yes, heavy make-out sessions were okay. Any further and you end up running around naked in my backyard with four Rottweilers on your heels, whilst I ran through the possibilities for my next boyfriend. And the best thing was that I had many. Oh life was sweet back then. And then it all became fucked up again when I threw a long weekend party.

Can anybody say 'biggest fucking mistake of my life'?

*_*_*_*_*_*

Love the reviews, keep them coming!!!! Review; you know you want to!!!! Also a HUGE thank you to 'I LOVE Sparkley Scars' for being my beta for this story (and my others as well) problem solved and future chapters should have better grammar from now on, thank you soooo much!!

from

Ella-Ava Rose


	3. Chapter 3

**Warning; sorry if anything she says insults anybody but its the way she thinks. Review!! pretty please for more.**

So yes, dramatic pause there and did you like it? I know I sure as hell didn't.

That party was one of my wilder ones. Yes, I admit that after making out in the kitchen with one of the guys that showed up -there were too many to keep track of. So sue me! - I had made my way through the crowd looking for my at-the-moment boyfriend.

I always referred to my latest boyfriend as my at-the-moment boyfriend, behind their back and to their face, it was one of the points of attraction that I had about me. A relationship that let you off the hook without getting to bitchy and obsessive if you cheated. It was an un-written contract for me when in a relationship because, and lets face it, one of the two always fucked up at least twice.

So yes, it's better to keep the amount of love down and the amount of lust high in a relationship with me. There are three options for you, if you did not know that.

1) Go out more; you obviously don't associate with anybody because if you did you would know of me. _Everybody _does. 2) You're obviously not worth dating. 3) Get your fucking head out of a book.

Those were the main rules of anybody in my life. You just _had _to know of Isabella when you came option 2, because if not, then you were definitely a fucking shit-head that didn't deserve the time or effort of anyone in this shitty town.

And then there was the party; that was what it was referred to from the moment the fliers were passed around the school and I -the head cheer leader- whispered my invites to all the cute jocks after practice. It was _the _party of the year and not just because it would continue for two days -I had estimated that my bitches could stay over for the third day- and then we could all go back to school the next day and pretend like nothing ever happened once my father came home on one of his rare visits.

Yes folks, he planned _ahead _when he wasn't going to be sucking on the face of the latest secretary or help that the company had when he was in his trailer -that he had decked out with a full bar, may I add, because he would not be able to _stand _anything less. And so, I was to make sure (and also with warning from Pamela) that I had to have the cleaners called and then let them remove all evidence of any fucking party and yet there were banners all over the high-school about the party.

Amateur, she obviously had no idea on how to be stealthy when it comes to throwing parties. No doubt because before all the fucking plastic surgery on her nose, face, boobs, ass.... and other stuff, she had probably been a frizzy-haired, acne infested, nobody who wouldn't have amounted to shit if not for the fact that they wore thick rimmed glasses and books were her only best friends.

See? And who said that Beauty Camp didn't teach you anything?

And then there was the whole fact of getting all the food for the guys who stuffed themselves until they looked like a fucking gorilla, with the chest hair and all -not that I had any problem with getting the food, but it took time from my pre-booked massage therapy- and then the matter of finding just the right outfit.

You know, the one were you see it and you go '_wow, that's the one.' _Yeah, that didn't ever happen for me. I looked, I bought, I killed the fucking designer if it didn't last throughout the night -they rarely did with these crazy parties- and then I would simply and plainly, ruin there reputation if they had one to begin with.

It was on crazy parties like these that I normally stayed up all week planning decorations and all that kind of shit for it. What else did I have to live for? Besides to have the perfect party of the year I needed plan and preparation: food, decorations, games, booze, my dress and hair. All very important things in my opinion. And I was, as usual, right.

*_*_*_*_*_*_*

One of the worst things about parties was the night of. Where emotions are running high and you're worried about fucking up all the shit you've been working on for the last two weeks of your life. Especially when it's the party of the year we are talking about.

Sure, the parents say I waste my life away. Sure, the cops might be called. All I'd say to them was to fuck off and perhaps bribe them or some shit. It was always the same and I loved me for it. Parties were about fun and I'll be damned if I wasn't going to have fun after all the preparation and money that went into it.

Jenna, my private party planner, had been fucking twisting her words when she said the party room was spectacular. I'd show her _spectacular, _yeah, by shoving my whole foot up her ass. She had ruined the party music. All I asked for was a simple fucking order of CDs and she brings me a box of classics, I fired her.

After getting the _right _music for a party I started on letting the waiters become introduced to my whole rowdy crowd of party-goers. Hell, they should be used to it by now. It was when the first wave of people were granted access by security by the garden gate and they had swarmed down on my mansion that my nerves finally settled.

I relaxed and let myself enjoy it, if anybody needed this party it was me.

It was around three in the morning and the party was in full-swing. Someone had brought a trunk full of booze with them and I, myself, had spiked the bowl of fucking punch that some idiot had decided to make. Who drinks punch at a party, fucking morons.

T-Pain blared from the speakers as drunk and semi-conscious people attempted to dance along to the 'fucks' and the 'shits' that screamed from the stereo. Been there, done that... Other people were grinding against each other and slipping in some poor fucking souls, vomit while some fucker was, at the moment, puking into the $500 plant I got for my birthday.

I, meanwhile, was the bitch of all of these guys. I alternated between grinding my hips into some other guy's bony ass while snagging gulps of my beer and fighting against the nausea that was the fore-math or warning of a major hang-over in the morning. After making out with some stranger in the closet-and him getting over his whole groping thing that he had- I stumbled my way blindly upstairs in a semi-coherent state, only stopping once to barf over the stairwell and continued on my way to find my bedroom. It was times like these that I hated having the top store to myself.

After finishing staggering my way up to the top stairs, blocking out all the noise the insolent teenagers that I passed were making. I finally made it to the outside my door. After grabbing the key for my bedroom that I had kept between the bra of my very revealing boob tube -like I'd let anybody into my room, as if!- after making sure to close the door after me. Stumbling over to my four-poster bed, I kicked my shoes off and peeled my clothes away while throwing on a dressing gown.

I was just about conscious enough to remember to run myself a bath unless I wanted to wake up, smelling like my own vomit, and emptied the entire contents of my bubble bath shower gel into it. I watched it as the bubbles grew higher and higher. I zoned off in my alcohol-induced state and by the time I came to again, the water was lapping at my feet and I rushed to quickly turn it off. Thankfully the water was sucked into the fur carpet so I had no worries that I would have to clean it up afterwards.

It was about this time that there was banging outside of the bathroom. I snapped my head around just in time to see the door shudder with the echo from the loud banging. Throwing my dressing gown back on, I slid out the door.

Someone was there; leaning against the wall and I struggled against the dim light and the pain in my head to see who it was. I recognized the blond hair and blue eyes as they stared back at me and I hesitantly edged forward. "James?" I whispered hoarsely and put my hand on his shoulder, "Are you okay?" Before I could ask any more, his eyes shot to my own and I was frightened by his expression. It was dark and gloomy and I immediately knew; bad news.

I was correct in my assumption and he grabbed my wrist with his other hand as he pulled me to him tightly. I held my hands out in front of me protectively, as he pulled me into his chest and pressed his mouth firmly to mine. I pulled away in disgust as he pushed me back so that I fell backwards against my desk and he was partially supporting my weight.

My head crashed against the glass of the mirror as I struggled against his grasp and I became aware of a prominent throbbing in the back of my head. Something wet and soft landed on my ear and through the haze of tears in my eyes, I looked down to see a dark liquid substance running down my bare chest. I was suddenly lifted into the air again; his hands under my legs as he pulled me up against him and he pushed me back onto the bed. Out of breath, I whispered, "James stop! You know the rule-" I was cut off as a sharp blow was dealt to my head and as the pounding in my head became more prominent, it seemed to merge with the pain of my hang-over until I succumbed into unconsciousness.

The last thing I remember was the room's darkness and the sound of ripping cloth as my eyes clouded up and I faded, dreamlessly, into a state of unconsciousness.

*_*_*_*

**Please review; this was the hardest chapter to write so far. I didn't go into graphic detail because that isn't my style. Lol. Please tell me what you thought and if you do I'll update that much sooner!! Thanks to my beta 'I LOVE Sparkely Scars' she's the best! And also check out BlackFlowersOnMyGrave and Edwardaddict17's stories. You have to!!! Trust me! From**

**Ella-Ava Rose**


	4. broken hand

_this is a mesage to all affarie ava mai (my sis) fans that read her stories._

_its actually an hillarious story_

_We went to a zoo were the animals run around and you drive through and when we got near the birds Ella (affari ava mai) decided to get closer to the birds got out of the car and went to take a picture of the pelican and when she did the flash went off and the pelican when crazy and attacked the hand her camera was in (which was her right arm) and in her effort to save the camera broke two or three finger and twisted her pinkie she is in much pain and will be unable to even type for about a month so I'm very sorry but …….. No updates for that time I would appreciate it if you would leave her some reviews wishing her to get well soon_

I told you it was a hilarious story even she thinks so well she's really sorry and promises to get back to writing as soon as she possibly can until then just stay strong

xXx BlackRosesOnMyGrave xXx


	5. Chapter 5 banner

okay hello guys, just wondering if one of you would like to do a banner for this story. i would give you extra info on what is to happen if you do!

next chapter coming up

also i am beta'ing a story by 'Sparkly Tutu As My Fairy' it is called 'Fading Crimson' a bella and jasper fanfiction and is rated M. it should be available in the search engines and i would really appreciate if you head over and give her the support as its her first fanfiction and you all know how nerve racking your first fanfiction is. lol

xoxo

Ella-Ava


	6. Chapter 6

**warning: sorry if anything she says offends you, its just the way i portray her also the themes are for ADULTS or at least if your under the age of 14\15 it wouldn't be advisable for you to read it... please R&R anyway.**

When I woke up in the morning the bastard was gone. Fleeing from the scene of the crime like the coward he was. I wasn't sure how I got the courage to stand but I eventually did, a flash of pain in my abdomen had me collapsed on the floor within seconds. If I caught him he was dead, whether by machine gun or hand I didn't mind.

I dragged myself up and towards the direction of my bathroom. When I was near enough to see through the haze in my eyes and the blood that was smeared across my face, I saw a crack of a fist imprint in the corner of the door alerting me to the fact that it had been a forced entry even if I had stepped out to greet him. That would do well in court.

I finally made me way through to my mirror, leaning heavily on the walls and any surface I passed. The pane of glass, unlike the one in my bedroom, was not smashed and I took this opportunity to check myself for damage. There was plenty of damage to go around though.

My dressing gown was torn to shreds along with any dignity I had, had before the party. My hair was sticky from a mixture of sweat, blood and tears and as I reached my hand up to the throbing ache on the side of my head, I quickly drew it back as a handful of cold, dried blood covered my arm. If anything the pain in my head increased and I stumbled backwards gazing at myself in horror as my reflection looked back at me from the mirror.

My mascara was smudged on my face, mixing with the blood and my cheeks and eyes were puffy from the tears. My lips were bruised and the foundation on my cheeks had been rubbed off forcefully resulting in my cheeks being bright red from the raw pain of them. My jaw already had a bruise forming from the corner of my mouth to just underneath my ear and I knew that it would be even worse later when the ful extent of the pain set in. As I tried to fix my eye makeup I gazed at my bruised and bloody arms before rushing forward to the sink and turning on the water. Waiting for it to be scalding, I plunged my hands in and splashed the roasting water onto my face.

It stinged against my eyes and small cuts on my cheeks but at least the makeup was gone for the most part. I scrubbed at my arms and face and in the end, my arms were raw from the sheer pressure that I was using to try and remove any evidenece of what had happened in the last 24 hours. talking a steady breathe as I placed both my hands on the sides of the sink I gazed into the sink, gathering up the courage to leave the safe haven of the bathroom.

After stumbling through the mess in my bedroom and cutting my foot on a shard of glass by accident I limped my way down the stairs, talking in ragged breathes as the pain in my foot registered with my system. On my way down the stairs I glanced at the grandfather clock my father had goten in Tibet to find out it was just after 5 o clock: I had been unconscious for 13 hours. Hobbling through the mess of plates, empty bottles and cans of beer and decorations I took a great shuddering breathe as I landed on the couch. Curling up in a ball I began to rock back and forth evaluating the mess before my eyes. It didn't matter anymore though.

Closing my eyes, flashes of the night previous shot before my eyes like lightning: The terror and fear that washed over me. The sharp pain from the shard of glass as it cut through the thin flesh of my scalp, and the warmth as the blood departed from my body. I was lucky that the cut hadn't seemed too deep, I knew from personal experience that head wounds always bled the most.

I heard clattering in the kitchen and a nasally laugh as a bicker broke out on the television screen in the kitchen\lounge area. Staggering up and swearing softly underneath my breath with the sharp pain that flashed in my head at the sudden movement of my limbs after staying curled up in a ball for so long. My muscles were still stiff as I attempted to make my way for the kitchen counter.

Pamela was laughing at the top of her voice as she looked on with a bottle of Chardonnay from my fathers personal stash in our wine cellar, one that she wan't supposed to know anything about but would probably blame its disappearance on me. She was watching some hideous surgeons sitcom as two doctors argued over the fact that a patient had woken up during a life and death procedure and her laughing as the patient looked on with his stomach slit open and onlookers in the operation screaming with horror.

Her short black hair bobbed up and down as her laugh rang out through the house alerting me to the fact that we were definitely alone: She must have cleared everyone out after she couldn't get laid last night. As her eyes flickered past my cowering figure that was shrouded in the darkness of the corner that had no light glinting in it.

"about time Isabella! I thought you were going to stay asleep all day you lazy whore. what are you shaking about you fool? cop on and go clean up the mess before your father comes back tomorrow." I cowered deeper in the shadows as her voice sounded extra sharp in the aftermath of what had happened to me mentally and physically in the past 14 hours.

"stop whimpering you lazy lug, get your fat ass out of the corner and clean up the mess. I thought you said your friends were going to clean it for you? What your speechless? Ha, never thought i'd see the day when Isabella 'The Bitch' would actually be stuck for a sarcastic remark." She leaned forward in the arm chair before groaning as she pulled herself and staggered from the full force of the hang over that she had attained from two days constant partying. As her arms flayed before finally finding perch on the corner of the armrest. As she staggered forward I whimpered and withdrew even further in the corner which resulted in a flash of her eyes and the bottle of vintage chardonnay smashing as she attempted to reach me.

"Now look what you made me do,you little bitch! I want you to get down on your hands and knees and clean this mess even if it means licking up the the glass as well as the wine!" She screeched. I flinched as my heart beat sped up out of fear and my gasps of breathe became even more labored as I backed up and my back pressed against the marble surface of the counter sharply, resulting in my drawing in a sharp gasp of breathe at the pain in my ribs from where there must be bruising as a result of what happened.

"Well." She hissed "Are you going to listen to me or am I going to have to fucking force you, you bitch." Her hands were curled up in fists by this point and a shudder ran through me as I realized that she meant to carry out her threat. My hands scrapped behind my back as I tried to reach out for someway to protect myself. A towel even to blind her, I didn't care what just something, anything.

As she drew nearer I whimpered and she laughed at me cowardice as she stumble forward, with her hand already drawn back, ready to strike. My hand scrapped against something wet and cold before grasping it and throwing it in the direction of her face: That only angered her more. She rushed forward now, still wobbling a bit due to the amount of alcohol she had consumed, as my eyes and hands searched behind me for something more to delay her at least while I could hear her sharp breathes coming from her mouth.

My gaze landed on the sharp edge of one of the kitchen knifes and before she had taken two steps closer to me I was waving it in her direction with a manic look in my eye. She slightly staggered before smirking at me, not in the least bit alarmed that I was waving a knife at her. "Do you really think that wiould do me any harm Isabella?" she sniggered, inching forwards slowly. "Don't make me fucking use it against you Pamela. I will if i have to" My voice broke on the last few lines as I drew in a shaky breathe to steady myself ad try to keep my emotions underway.

She laughed in a deep voice that seemed to echo past my shoulder and into the hallway and I prayed that if there really was a God or some other fucked up religion that I was forced to believe in by my mother, that it would come to some use and give me the courage to actually use the weapon if necassary.

"Don't you come any fucking nearer" I attempted to screech with a bit of command in my voice but it only came out as a strained whisper, as my voice was hoarse from my ordeal and not having drank anything but booze for the last 2 days. My throat was raw from the effort M put into warning her. I just hoped for her sake that she followed the fucking rules. I had enough pain in the last 24 hours than in the rest of my whole life: She was not going to make it any worse for me. if she touched me I would fight back.

All of a sudden everything started to rush forward as if there had been a time lurch. Pamela lurched forward and I braced myself against the fist that I knew would strike me within seconds, but before that was to occur her eyes widened as her 5 inch high heel slided underneath her as the cloth I had just moments ago thrown at her face, obscured her path and as she slided towards me, the grip she had managed to sustain even through her drunken haze gave up and she smashed her head against the marble worktop just inches away from where my right hand was located.

I drew in a sharp gasp as blood started pumping from a deep gash in her head that extended from her left ear to the top right corner of her forehead. Blood splashed on my gown as I attempted to cower away from her, the sight of all that blood overwhelming me until I took flight and ran up to my bedroom leaving Pamela with beseeching eyes behind me as she attempted to rise up only to fall backwards again as blood continued to spread through the kitchen floor.

It still hurt to walk but I eventually crawled my way up to my bedroom before locking the door and shoving every bit of furniture I could manage, against the bathroom door, barricading myself in. No one could get me now. James or Pamela. They didn't matter, they caused pain. They deserved to die. I didn't kill her, she killed herself. She was drunk, that was her downfall. Whispers spread through my head, imagining what people would say, what they thought. I didn't care what they thought, I screamed to myself in my head. They were wrong, they'll hurt me, they'll try to put me away. Lock me up, blame it on me. She killed herself, yes she killed herself, maybe she could have killed James too.

'They were in it together' my head whispered. They tried to kill you then they killed themselves. Yes now they're dead. Its fine your safe. But what about everyone else. Whispers, all the looks. Flashes going through my head. Glass shattering, blood seeping into my pillowcase as James ravished my body. The darkness of the ceiling. Deep laboured breathes, tortured, agony. I didn't want to live anymore...

Crawling my way up, leaning against the wall heavily I repeated the stance of putting both my hands on both sides of the sink, breathing deeply. New tears streaked from my eyes now. I was happy. She was dead. I was afraid. The people, the men they could get me just like James. They'll want me too. They'll take me away from everything, they'll kill me. My breathes developed in sharp bursts as I gasped for air in my lungs. I couldn't breathe. I was going under, pain everywhere, scars all over.

I could feel him as my mind wouldn't stop replaying what had happened, maybe this was what going into shock was like, his hands pulled the gown, loosening it, tearing, shredding. His hand muffled me from speaking. I couldn't react. I was there in mind but not in body. I couldn't move. I couldn't fell anything except terror. Gasping as more tears shed down my face I gazed into the mirror in disgust seeing his face leering at me from within.

As the anger built up I screamed as I threw my fist forward into the glasses reflection, crashing it into a million pieces. I retracted my bloody knuckle, satisfied that the face had disappeared. He wasn't here. I made sure of that. As more blood pumped from my hand I smiled in grim satisfaction before allowing a whimper to escape my lips. Pain.

So much Pain...

Trailing my body slowly down the wall I curled up with my hand tucked into my chest, keeping the pressure on it. So much pain and darkness, too much... Faces in my mind, James, Pamela, my mother and then the man I considered to be my father yet whom I rarely saw. Turning, agony, swimming through my mind. Crying as rivulets of salty tears left me eyes I cried out all the anguish that had been building in my heart for the past 17 years... So much agony, curled up in a ball I had no choice but to remember...

**wow, that was probably the most depressing thing I ever wrote before. In case you're wondering Bella went into shock at the end and is convince that Pamela and James were working together to plan her demise. she also thinks everyones after her. it sometimes happens after an ordeal like that although strangely i found that it was easy enough to get into character as the words just poured onto the pages. remember that i warned it wasn't going to be pleasant... please review for more! couldn't wait to get this chapter out so it went un-beta'd. sorry for grammar mistakes. we don't have spell check. REVIEW!**

**xoxo**

**Ella-Ava**


End file.
